Holy Saturday is a liminal space. A liminal space is the time between ‘what was’ and ‘next.’ It is a place of transition, a time of waiting and not knowing the future. Holy Saturday is the most liminal of all liminal spaces. The horror of the cross of Friday has yet to give way to the new life of Sunday. And we find ourselves waiting in the space between.
The passage for today is Matthew 27:57-66
When it was evening (on Friday) Joseph of Arimathea came forward, asking Pilate if he might have the body of Jesus. Pilate acquiesced and Joseph took the body and wrapped it in clean linen and laid it in his new tomb, which he had hewn from rock. Then he rolled a great stone so the door of the tomb was sealed and he departed. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting by the tomb.
The next day, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate. They said, “Lord, we remember what that deceiver (Jesus) said while he was still alive. ‘After three days I will rise.’ Command, therefore, the tomb be secured until the third day; otherwise his disciples may go and steal him, and tell the people he has been raised from the dead.’ and the last deception would be worse than the first. Pilate said to them, “You may have a squad; go, secure it as you can.” So they went with the guard and secured the tomb, sealing the stone.
It is so curious to me that the ones who took Jesus at his words were the ones who worked against him.
Anyway, back to this Saturday of the in between where we find ourselves waiting with Mary Magdalene, the other Mary, and the other unnamed women at the tomb. They didn’t know what they were waiting for and although we do, we keep vigil with them.
May you find some space for silence today. Perhaps light a candle. Wait.
A poem for the Silence of Saturday
Saturday
Quiet, nothing
Heavy stillness
Darkness and weeping
Alone with our sorrow
We wait
The First Saturday
A sob rises from deep within
Who will be our comfort?
The One we need, who has always been
Our centre point
- Missing
What will make sense of this moment?
This Silent Saturday we weep
Heaven is silent in our sorrow
We mourn, we console
One another
For He is gone
He is gone to the place of the dead
To burst through the doors
And pull them all up to life
He is lifting Adam by the wrists
Drawing Eve up from the grave
Unlocking doors and leaving them
Swinging on their hinges
All humanity coming with Him
He is harrowing hell
This is liberation day
All past - today - forever
Will rise as He rises
But wait until tomorrow
This is today’s work
Work that He alone can do
While we wait in silence
Poem - Sarah Pickering